


Who Has Time to be Normal?

by bravechicken



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Wally West, Spitfire - Freeform, Wally West is Alive, Wally Whump, Wally uses his powers to travel, hurt!wally west, like why wouldn't he?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 04:22:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15922778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravechicken/pseuds/bravechicken
Summary: A series of oneshots and madness involving the ever eccentric Kid Flash. Misadventures, misunderstandings, missed jokes and probably Miss Martian at some point. From the League to the team to humanity in general, Wally West is quite the character. So I'm just gonna run with it. (Pun fully intended)





	1. Happy New Year

Looking up at the sky, he could see why people believed in magical things. There really isn't a sight quite as wondrous as a clear sky in the Rockies. _These stars are simply mesmerizing_. Of course, science told him they were nothing but giant, flaming balls of gas and other elemental compounds billions of light years away- an impossible distance, really. Not a single spark of _'magic'_ involved. Nope, Just cold, hard scientific fact. _And yet..._

Shaking his head, Wally finally snapped out of his trance. With a quick glance around, he unstrapped himself from his board, allowing himself one more final gaze up at the slopes before setting the old thing in one of the open slots on the rack. It was freezing in the Rockies. A good twelve degrees below zero with a slight breeze, but the young speedster didn't mind too much. It was New Years Eve, after all, he could be late to the party at Mount Justice. _This place is so beautiful_. He wouldn't miss this for all the hot chocolate in the world. Speaking of which,"Two hot chocolates, please." Wally mumbled through frozen lips. Not that his body's ' _special abilities'_ didn't provide him enough warmth. In fact, Wally hardly noticed the cold, speedsters and their hyperactive molecules resulting in a much warmer body heat and all, but something about the drink just seemed right. With thirty minutes left in the year, a good luck kiss would be necessary and he had his eye on a pretty little brunette who looked to be in a desperate need of a warm beverage.

Grabbing the two drinks, Wally strolled over quickly claiming the open seat to her right.

"Hey, uh, didn't I ride up the lift with you earlier tonight?"

He had, actually. In fact, more than once. The first time happened to be chance- the luck of the line, he supposed. But the second time had been strategic. Normally he kept to the backside of the mountain where the windchill tended to disagree with most people- especially at night, seeing as runs are limited when night-riding which opened the metaphorical door for Wally to go maybe a _little_ too-fast without attracting a whole lot of attention. However, she had stayed on the main runs with what Wally assumed were her friends. Lucky for him, her friends didn't seem to enjoy the cold the same way she and Wally did and retired to the lodge a good hour before midnight. Now, he wouldn't be Wally West if he wasn't as smooth as ice.

With a startled look up, irritated brown eyes met excited forest green. "Uh, yeah. Yellow jacket, the boarder who nearly took me out. _Twice_."

With a nervous chuckle, Wally rubbed the back of his neck searching for the right words to diffuse the mildly amused yet angry tone she used. "Yeah... Sorry about that." He attempted nonchalantly. Holding out the extra hot chocolate, Wally have his signature lop-sided smile, "I brought a peace offering."

"Hot chocolate?"

"Amends?" Wally smirked with a slight nod.

Hesitantly she grabbed the warm drink before taking an equally hesitant sip all the while eyeing the quirky stranger. Out of what seemed to be a rational thought process, she decided to take note of his appearance on the off-chance he was of a more deceptive nature than his apparent naivety displayed. His hair was a shockingly bright orange and was hilariously wind-whipped, most of it angled to the right in what was almost an accidental quiff.

"Names Wally, um, and you are..."

Thinking back to earlier when she had first met him she realized he had made a grand effort to get into line- most likely to sit by her again, she smiled as she thought back to the adorable recklessness the boy demonstrated.

"Out of your league, buddy."

"Wha-uh, I w-" he stammered, taken aback. Mentally slapping herself, the brunette marveled at his army of freckles and how much contrast his paling face allowed them to stand out even more. She always thought freckles were cute. Quickly she amended,"I meant skill-wise. You're good, but with the speed you got to the lift, its clear to me that you could use some practice. I mean stopping is sort of a fundamental procedure when skiing or snowboarding, no offence."

With an indignant shrug, Wally silently cursed his speed, "So I take it you come here often, then."

"Of course. I grew up on these mountains," with a mixture of longing and contentment she turned her gaze to the boy, sitting casually in what seemed to be an all too comfortable way, she couldn't help noting how at-home the teenager looked. "So what about you? You seem like the traveling type. Am I right or wrong?"

"Right, I suppose. I actually live in Central, uh, Central City in Missouri. But I was born in Blue Valley, Nebraska. I guess that sort of makes us neighbors." He replied with a chuckle.

"Guess so. Do you come for the holidays?"

"You could say that." He said, folding his arms behind his head.

 _How can a mere stranger feel like such an old friend?_ She thought before checking the clock behind his head. 11:55. _Shoot._

"Well I certainly appreciate the drink, but I really must get going."

Suddenly realizing his chances were diminishing, Wally stood up and with a gesture somewhere between a bow and a wave, "A pretty woman like yourself should have an escort. You know, for safety and whatnot."

What happened next, even the girl herself would never understand. It's possible he could have spiked the drink- though one look at his innocent face and she threw that theory out the window. It was her own will- of course it was- she didn't believe the drink held any odd substances, yet, she can't deny how terribly out of character she was acting. Perhaps she'll blame it on the chill of the mountain air. Whatever it was, she wouldn't ever quite know why. With a sudden burst of confidence, she grabbed his coat, an eccentric yellow, and planted her lips onto his. For those few seconds, she simply kissed him. And when she pulled away, she couldn't deny how happy she was that she was the cause of his bright red blush and beaming smile.

Wally stood there, grinning like an idiot as she walked away. Every ounce of his body was itching to run after her and yet he couldn't even blink as she hollered over her shoulder, "So, I'll see you around, then, Wally?"

"Well I could use some practice."

She grinned and it was a beautiful smile.

"I'm sure we'll run into each other." She shouted back with a shy wave. She took only a few steps yet when she looked back to catch one last glance of the odd boy, he was gone.

And when Wally finally came walking in through the zeta-tube with only a minute left in the year, it was worth all the snide remarks.


	2. The Anniversary

His first cognizant thought was an acknowledgment of the time. Granted, it took three tries but in the end a successful _3:45 AM_ resided within Wally's rather flabbergasted mind.

_Damn. Another nightmare. And here I thought I outgrew them._

"Feelin' alright there, Kid?"

_Even better. I had a nightmare while crashing at Roy's house. Joy to the world, the torment has come._

"Y'know," Wally slurred sleepily, "I can never distinguish whether 'kid' means child or is used in reference to my secret I.D."

"Ever consider the notion of it being both?"

"Yes, actually. That's what brought about the confusion."

There was a moment of comfortable silence as the two redheads ignored the other's existence.

"Y'know, it's nothing to be ashamed of, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"A nightmare. Given our jobs and given the date on my calendar over there, I'd say it's almost good that you feel something."

Silence was his only answer.

"If you want to hide it from the others, fine. I get it. But it's me, Wally. I was there when all that shit was happening. Its heavy stuff." Another pause. Another lack of response.

"I'm here if ya wanna talk at all, okay?" Roy stated, an odd glint of annoyed concern laced his voice as he walked into the kitchen.

Clattering could be heard as his cheap coffee pot whirred into action.

Feeling a tad bit guilty and truly needing the comfort of his honorary big brother, Wally stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed into his favorite seat at the dented table.

His green eyes scanned the surface of the table, the scratches as chaotic as the orange wisps of hair upon his head.

"Roy?"

"Yeah, Kid?"

"It's not entirely wrong, right?"

"You're being cryptic again, Wally."

"I should hate my parents. I mean, I try to feel something- anything. Love or hate, but I just don't feel anything. Is that… Is that wrong? I mean, I should feel at least something, right?"

Another stream of silence wafted through the room before a forlorn sigh resonated from the resident speedster followed quickly by a loud growling.

It's this level of friendship Wally truly adores with Roy. The friendship where it's entirely okay to suddenly raid his fridge for food. No words necessary.

Somehow Wally found bread, meat, and sketchy cheese that he figured was a valid risk he was willing to take. His metabolism is nearly rock hard at this point both from his powers and the necessary eating habits and beneficial anti-virus his hyper-metabolism provides. Sour milk hardly even fazes the teenager.

_Benefits of being a speedster, I guess._

Yet sandwiches provide no comfort against memories. And, as far as speedster benefits are concerned, there are plenty of downfalls as well. The increased speed of his brain, for starters. The simple task of preparation was merely muscle memory. His hands provided the muscle while his mind supplied plenty of dreadful memories.

Memories of his father coming home drunk.

Memories of stepping in front of his mother. A woman who would always love her husband more than her son. The woman who could never see a fault in his father but saw plenty in her own flesh and blood. The taunts, the slurs, the verbal abuse. And, with a painful shiver, Wally remembered the beatings. They weren't every day. If they were, Wally was sure he'd never have survived. But they were alarmingly frequent. They all came flooding back, quickly drowning the seventeen-year-old's mind.

A firm hand upon his trembling shoulder pulled Wally back to reality. The memories, however, resurrected old habits. With a tremendous flinch and a muffled scream, Wally sped to the other side of the kitchen.

A few tense seconds passed as Roy simply stood before his best friend. He knew how this would go. He's known Wally since he was nine back when Barry introduced the two with the hope of Wally finally having a friend. It worked better than Oliver or Barry would ever have imagined, at least, after the first couple of 'play dates'. Roy had been Wally's punching bag. An upbringing like his tends to make for a rather angry kid. Roy could understand that, of course. He never knew his parents. Not enough, at least. He was raised more so by Brave Bow than his father and he saw the man die before his very eyes. And here was a kid who knew them as nothing but malicious monsters. No matter how hard he imagined such a situation- such an emotion- he simply couldn't. Sure, he and Ollie had their differences, but the guy always tried his best. He wasn't perfect, no, but he was far from the beast Wally must remember his father being.

He'd been by Wally's side through it all. Through the mysterious bruises. He heard about the night Wally walked all the way from Keystone to Central City with a broken arm just to get help from his uncle. The only father figure the kid had ever had at the time. The trial to put his father away and the custody battle between the Allens and Wally's mother. The accident that gave him his powers. It all happened back-to-back. Mere months or simply weeks apart. It was a hard time for the kid.

Standing there in his kitchen now, Roy knew what Wally was going through. Perhaps not entirely. He wasn't in Wally's position. But he certainly knew more than most. Wally didn't talk much about his parents. The kid never could bring himself to call Rudolph by anything more than the distant term of 'Father.' The Queen's mansion was like Wally's second home for the following year.

The way Wally just flinched reminded Roy of how jumpy the kid was after his father was arrested. The way a sudden sound or movement would cause the ten-year-old to jump a good foot or two in the air. The way he'd cling to the closest person around, too scared to be alone. The way he'd cower by any movement that was sudden or involved a hand being raised, even for something as simple as grabbing a box of cereal off the top shelf. And his constant, almost habitual apologizing. The mere memories twisted Roy's heart, his stomach churned in anger and sympathy. _Wally never deserved that_. It had taken years to break the habit. He never slipped up. Looking at the seventeen-year-old now and days, no one would even entertain the idea of the sharp witted, incredibly intelligent, spastic goofball to have a past of abuse. Except for one night a year. The anniversary of his father's arrest.

Roy knew how to comfort the kid. But he could never quench the fury that flowed through his veins this night every year.

"I'm sorry, Roy. I just thought about-"

"It's alright, Wally. I understand." With quiet steps, Roy walked over to his best friend. Reaching out his hand, Roy pulled the frazzled ginger back into his living room.

"How's a classic movie marathon sound, huh?"

"Sounds perfect, Roy." Wally said with a shaky smile.

Almost half way through the movie, Roy faced the lean teen.

"I think we both know you have every right to hate them, Wally. The thing that sets you apart is that you don't. It shows just how strong of a kid you are."

A wave of comfortable silence washed over the room as the film's audio echoed around the bare walls of Roy's apartment.

"Thanks, Roy." Wally finally said with a smile.

The two sat watching Casablanca for a brief moment when Roy spoke up, his voice displaying his resigned commitment, "Wanna go down to the 24-hour diner and have the all you can eat pancakes? I'll buy."

"Roy, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."


	3. An Element - An Origin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally's a little scared of lightning. Or maybe he just relates to it.

He watched the sky with an unwavering curiosity. A fascination as powerful as the plasma that shot through the thundering skies, though no one could see it, the expression as fleeting as the light which electricity shed upon the sky. A glowing flicker of emotion then roaring normalcy once more.

It was then that it clicked.

_He is lightning._

Not in a literal sense, no. But the characteristics were certainly there. And the none-too-widely known fact that his birth was both ended and began with that single, once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Really, it was amazing how well he hid his terror.

Thunder growled through the city, the loud grumbling ricocheting to and fro in an endless thrum of crackles and rolling booms.

Alone atop one of Gotham's many skyscrapers, Wally stood in the endless typhoon, irritation shown quite clearly upon his freckled face. Green eyes scanned the area in incredible speed, their wide sweep appearing as nothing more than a small twitch.

"Geesh, what gives, Rob?" He muttered with a quick flick of his head; bare hands carting through the messy hair in tangent with the goal of allowing some water to fly off him. It's a strange habit. One the rain under appreciated as it quickly undoes what little there was to gain by the motion as water collected atop his head drop by heavy drop.

"Crime doesn't take a break, Kid."

Spinning around, the sodden red head laughed at the slim figure shadowed by the tall building's dark echo casually clad and cloaked by the night.

"Right. That's always your excuse." Wally teased.

A quick flash of lightning showed the wide white smile on his friend's face at the familiar quip.

"Better than my stomach, Fleet Feet." Robin replied, his tone mild as he sauntered over to his best friend the close proximity hindering the young speedster's attempts at hiding the small tremor being out in this weather generated.

"You want to, uh, get out of the rain? Or is this some kind of speedster... Thing?"

"Ah, not really a favorite weather type." Wally chuckled, his hand grasping the nape of his neck- his tell, as it were. "Where to, Bat?"

"Right." The afternoon finally beginning as Robin walked towards the edge of a building, his silence being the unspoken "follow me" for him.

* * *

The two ended up in New Orleans for some of the best crawfish etouffee Wally claims to have ever eaten. This, of course, was far from strange. It was common knowledge amongst the League that the speedsters knew their food, and especially, they knew where it is best to get it.

Having superspeed, as Wally so often gloated, had it's benefits.

However, despite his best friend's alleged craving for Cajun Creole, Dick couldn't help but note the fact that Wally managed to choose one of the only areas of America not currently suffering from the sudden temperature changes common in the springtime.

The majority of the midwest and northern regions of America have been pounded with a sudden influx of tornados and thunderstorms each ranging in intensity as the seasons battled over their temporary reign.

Wally, Dick noted, has always done his best to avoid thunderstorms.

Understandably so, the acrobat silently mused.

While he and Wally have known eachother since they were nine and ten, respectively, there are certain things both boys know but never mention.

Wally, for one, knows about his parent's death. He knows what happened and it's effects on the younger boy. Sure, they have talked about it and once in a blue moon, it will be brought up. When the team went on a mission involving the circus, for instance.

However, there is a mutual understanding of how deeply personal such events are both in their shaping-effect and the emotional scar left in it's wake.

For Wally, it's his parents as well as his powers. Both dramas occurred one after the other and as such, they seem to trigger one another more often than not. The thing with scars is that they're healed, but remembered. An echo of the pain as well as a reminder. And, every now and then, the right touch causes somewhat of a flare despite how repaired that person is.

Not many know how Wally received his powers.

More often than not people seem to shrug their shoulders with a flippant tick towards the idea that he was born with them.

That, however, is not the case.

Dick, being his best friend, is one of the few heroes privy to this knowledge. And it is with that very knowledge the slower of the two doesn't comment on Wally's inaudible sigh of relief when that beacon of hope called the sun finally shines through as both friends enjoy their time together.

It isn't often the two can just hang out without homework, missions, or patrol. And, really, it's nice to pretend they're normal teenagers every now and again.

* * *

The impossibly loud crackle fizzled out into the low rumble thunder is so famously known for rolling out. The sound only seemed amplified within Mount Justice as the team sat in silence, each nervously awaiting news from within the medical ward.

Their most recent mission was both a success and an utter failure. The team managed to complete their mission but at the cost of Robin and Kid's safety when the floor of the five story warehouse decided to cave under their weight just as they were leaving.

As if their fall wasn't enough, the sound alerted the guards to the team's presence amping the recon mission into combat immediately.

The guards were few and soon the team prepared themselves for the search and rescue of their two pranksters. It didn't take long for M'gann to locate and board both boys. The series of holes was a rather obvious trail.

Robin managed to regain consciousness the instant the Bioship took flight.

And, seeing as he took significantly smaller damage in the fall, it wasn't all that surprising. All the worry, anger and guilt seemed to silence the typically cheeky hero who kept muttering about stupid speedsters and their habit of using themselves as human shields.

The team, of course, had to agree. Healing factors be damned, Wally was injured.

Upon their arrival at base, both Kid and Robin were ushered to the medical bay, the team silent in their corresponding guilt. Each frustrated thought of theirs punctuated with a new clap of thunder.

They were oddly used to this.

* * *

Dick wasn't too bad off. His wrist and ankle were a little more than sprung and with some cuts which required stitches. But such injuries were practically superficial.

Wally, however, managed to receive another broken wrist on top of a solid concussion, some bruised and broken ribs and more than a few more cuts deserving of stitches than Richard acquired.

Knowing full well he'll be good as new in a week, Rob saw it as his duty to be the first to scream in Wally's face when he woke up. It was why he demanded they share a room while being patched up, and seeing as the stubborn ginger had yet to join him in consciousness, Dick refused to leave his friend's bedside even as the painkillers kicked in with their vengeful drowsiness.

One minute he was checking the time the next he was waking up with the uncomfortable feeling that someone stood behind him.

Groaning in indignation, Dick tore his blurry eyes from the empty bed in front of him to the lanky speedster behind him.

The storm raged on outside the window, a staccato rhythm blanketing the quiet of the room. Standing tall and oddly still was Wally, his gaze cryptic as he stared out into the storm.

Once again noting the odd tenseness of the moment, Dick chose simply to stand beside his friend; the two comforted enough by their mutual presence.

Wally could see it a moment before it shot through the clouds, the sort of preliminary spark lightning tends to release milliseconds before it's bold streak is shot into the sky. His eyes trailed the mesmerizing glow, his body tilting forward in subconscious desire.

It was seconds after thunder had released it's growl that Dick finally spoke, his voice strong despite the softness of his tone, "I always figured you hated lightning. It made sense, you know? To hate the thing that…" he trailed off, the second half not needing stated.

Wally knew what he was getting at.

" But it's not, is it?" Blue eyes slid to stormy green with blatant curiosity begging the ginger be pulled from his haze.

A quick shake of his head, one hand instantly rubbing half his face as a small hiss of pain escaped from the movement brought Kid back from whatever space he was traveling. His body relaxed as reality kicked back in.

Green eyes shifted one last time towards the sky, an unspeakable longing dripping from their core. When Wally finally returned Richard's gaze a mischievous glint has stubbornly replaced the longing.

"No." Wally stated, his breath hitching at the effort as his ribs protested the act of speaking.

A slow but sure nod from the shorter of the two speaking for the both of them.

And just like that the blue moon was gone. But Dick had seen his friend's trance. It was a glint so foreign and yet so fitting. Not one induced by fear but not one of yearning, either. It was a certain look of uncertain awe that can only be reflected by those touched by an unstoppable force. A force that could just as easily kill you as it can save you. It is equal parts fear and desire.

Healing and destruction.

It is very much the speedster dichotomy.

To be the friendliest as well as the deadliest.

And it was in that small instant that Robin understood Wally all the more.

"C'mon, let's go see the team."

"What, no lecture?"

The rumbling of thunder was his only response.


	4. Contemplating Time and Other Travels

"Time jump?" A crackling voice questioned with more than a hint of incredulity.

"Time jump." replied the smooth debonaire of the second.

The city itself gave a sarcastic vote with the resounding sirens echoing off the buildings and powerlines that littered the ground and hindered the sky of Star City.

Atop one of the taller buildings sat three young heroes, each with a destiny unknown to them but mutually assumed to be abnormal in its unconventionality.

"This isn't Men in Black Three, Roy." A third cackling voice remarked.

There's the distinct ruffle-tug sound of hair being tousled that has become the signature to their perpetually angry archer accompanied with the subtle rasp-laden snark as he quickly cut-off Dick's insinuation with a punch to the shoulder and an exasperated,"I know that. Why we ever spent the ten bucks to see that shit in the first place is beyond me."

Before the slate-haired detective could further derail the debate with the evidential proof that it was Roy's idea and Bruce's money the mouthy speedster himself replied with a quick, "So is time travel, my friend."

"Oh shut up, Wally. You're the one that brought it up."

"I know." was the airy sigh.

It was a quiet night. Of course, that wasn't uncommon in Star City. Where Gotham seemed to be filled with sirens screaming about the dark city's fluctuating crime and Central City had its disasters (both natural and mostly unnatural) as frequent as black tiles on a checkerboard, Star City fell somewhere in between with a more consistent amount of crime and the occasional quiet Tuesday night.

It was a mutual understanding between the three teens that whenever they wanted to hang out as friends, Star was the place to go. Gotham was simply too dangerous and Central was too weird. Star, however, was at the very least somewhat predictable.

And It's nights like these that always end with three brothers staring at a sky full of planes flashing past. Where Wally will always mistake them for shooting stars then complain that he has yet to see one in the flesh. Where the first sidekicks would lay facing the sky mumbling secrets and jokes and theories in their private every-day paradise.

So the relative silence- the invitation to just _be_ together for an evening- was always welcome.

Amid the humming chatter of passersby and the distant ambiance of cars and cops and other crashes and bumps, there was the quiet sound of cloth as one by one, each boy assumed their star-gazing position.

And somewhere within the sacred silence, Dick began the small talk. It was deeply poetic to both gingers how consistent it was for their baby bat to start out their sharing sessions.

"Wally?"

An encouraging shrug-like sound was his only response, which all three knew to be encouragement enough.

"You know time travel only ever ruins things, right?" The tone was light but the message was pleading. If either teen knew much of anything about the other, then it was what made them tick. In their own way, each boy had survived hell. And- of all three- Wally was the only meta. While that didn't really do much to affect their crime-fighting, as each teen was just as capable as the other; With unique talents and abilities and interests and so on. What it did affect was their relationship. The group dynamic. Because if Wally could break the sound barrier in his sneakers at eleven, then at seventeen it wasn't too much of a stretch to consider he might _sustain_ breaking light speed.

And at that point, science speculates a lot of things to happen. Time travel being one of them. And sometimes his jokes weren't entirely jokes. _Well, Wally always was a man of science._ And it was that knowledge that terrified both Dick and Roy. Everyone wishes their past were different at some point. If anyone could punch Hitler in the face and prevent a World War, not many would say no. Paradoxes be damned. But it had never crossed their minds that it could even be a possibility. One thing was certain,the past could never be perfect.

They all understood- partially or otherwise- that it's their pasts that made them heroes. And to change that would be to change themselves and- by extension- these nights.

The future itself was ambiguous in all regards. For most, the past seemed set in stone. And it was with the non-verbal question already asked that Wally put his friend's minds at ease by replying with an oddly soft and similarly pleading tone, "Don't worry about it. I'm not going anywhere."

And in a world where nothing is ever satisfying, those moments atop a nameless building in Star City were good enough. Having the reassurance of such wasn't half bad either.

And after another minute or so of silence, in true speedster fashion, Wally tacked on, "But it is _theoretically_ possible."


	5. Speedsters Can't Get Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speedsters can't get drunk ( maybe its complete and maybe it isn't, who's to say...)

There are many benefits to being a speedster. 

 

You can see the world without paying for more than a pair of new sneakers and food. You can slow down time to truly live every moment to it’s absolute fullest- a talent that is appreciated when lightning strikes or a when a beautiful person blinks or you’re tired and a test question doesn’t quite make sense.

 

As a speedster, time doesn’t lose meaning so much as take on a completely different characterization. It becomes malleable. More gooey and watery instead of the hard bedrock everyone else is accustomed to.

 

With your perception of time being faster than your top speed, overthinking is nearly constant. Anxious foot taps burn through your favorite socks. And in this middle ground adulthood that is the early twenties, where every other human has the ability to drink and not think for a minute… the same metabolism that makes a day without food feel like a month of starvation makes any amount of alcohol act and taste like bitter water that burns.

 

Which is to say that in a world of equivalent exchange, the benefits of being a speedster come with some detriments, as well. 

 

So it goes.

 

For Wally, the loveable soul that he is, it means he never really minded. It meant he was a sure-fire designated driver. It meant he could ensure that his friends were safe and taken care of. It meant that the world Wally crafted out of the people he loved could keep turning even as speedbumps and nightmares and battlescars made their inevitable appearance.

 

It means that when the villain of the day decided they wanted to drug a speedster- that it shouldn’t have worked. And yet, despite that it shouldn’t- it did. It was awful, too, because baby’s first drunk is supposed to be fun times shared with people you trust and love so they can be just a little bit less drunk acting as witnesses to embarrassing stories they will  hold over your head for years.

 

Not like this. 

 

It is these thoughts, however fleeting, that go through Dick’s head as he watches Wally buzz uncontrollably. Certain limbs, one at a time, vibrating without his control. His legs moving him accross the room and into a wall with a groan, head whipping quickly away from his best friend to hide the tears Nightwing had already seen.

 

He’s a detective. And he isn’t blind. Sue him. 

 

(He’d win.) 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago on FF.net and I felt the need to post it here, I guess.  
> I mostly do art stuff! So check out my Tumblr (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/littlewheatart ) and my insta ( @littlewheatart )


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